More Than I Could (16)

He narrows his eyes. “Chris led you into the middle of cornfields, and you called him a damn superhero. And I get a grumpy fucking cat?”

“What does Chris have to do with this?”

He rubs his forehead.

“Again,” I say, emphasizing the word, “I’ll tell Maggie you’ll need to find another nanny. I can’t imagine staying here and arguing with you for a month. We’d kill each other.”

And probably without hate fucking and then makeup sex, to boot. Because that’s my luck.

“Megan …”

For the first time, buried just beneath his steely exterior, there’s a flash of vulnerability. It’s just a flash—a quick blur of emotion—but it’s there.

He covers it as quickly as it appears.

“What?” I ask.

A truck rumbles into the driveway. We turn toward the window to see Maggie making her way to a silver truck.

Chase watches as an older man, whom I recognize as Lonnie, and a young girl with long, dark hair hop out. That must be Kennedy.

“Thank you for helping me last night,” I say, turning my attention back to him. “I appreciate it. To be safe, I’ll get someone to look at the car before I head to the airport.”

“Well, look who we have here,” Lonnie says as he walks through the mudroom door. “Megan Kramer, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”

I smile at the teenager beside Lonnie as he hugs me. The buckles of his overalls are cold against my skin—almost as cool as Kennedy’s reception.

“How are you, Lonnie?” I ask.

“Good. Ready to see my girlie Kate, that’s for damn sure,” he says. “I haven’t hugged my daughter in far too long.”

“I’m sure she’ll be just as happy to see you.” I pivot to Kennedy and smile. I don’t know what to say to her, but I can’t not say anything at all. “You must be Kennedy.”

She eyes me with a heavy dose of typical teenager suspicion. “Are you my babysitter?”

That’s how we’re playing this, huh? “I—”

“Hey, Ken,” Chase says, inserting himself into our little circle. He pulls her against his side. “You’re back early. How was brunch?”

I breathe, relieved to have a moment to get my bearings.

How do I answer that? I’m not her babysitter—but Maggie doesn’t know that yet. Neither does Lonnie.

I gulp. This might get awkward.

“It was brunch,” Kennedy says, keeping an eye on me. “They had baklava this week. I brought you some but left it in Pap’s truck.”

Chase kisses her on the side of the head. “Thanks, kiddo.”

“Is that your car out there?” Kennedy asks me, pulling away from her dad.

I nod.

“You have an Iyala Nails bag in the back,” she says. “The turquoise tote from the spring collection.”

“The turquoise was much prettier than the pink, despite popular demand. I have the pink one, but I never use it.”

Her eyes widen. She has her dad’s green eyes. “You have the pink one? That was impossible to get. The turquoise one was too, but no one could get the pink one because it came with the summer manicure set and the Relatively Rare red polish.”

My smile is wide. “You know a lot about Iyala polishes.”

“Yeah. Well, not just the Iyala ones. I love all nail stuff. But the Iyala special collections are always the best.”

“I’ve always been partial to the winter collections. They’re always a bit more magical. Don’t get me wrong, the summer ones are great. But the winter ones …”

“The winter ones are always different. Not just red or pink or orange. They come up with some cool colors for the winter collections. They’re kind of funky.”

I nod, delighted that she picked up on the things I strove to achieve in my years with Iyala Polishes. “Yes. Exactly.”

Kennedy grins, satisfied. I’ve passed her inspection.

I’m reveling in my success when I realize I don’t need to pass her inspection because I’m not staying.

I clear my throat and avoid Chase’s gaze. “I need to get back to the hotel, Maggie. I have a few calls to make this afternoon.” Namely, to buy a ticket home. “Can I give you a call later today?”

Maggie quickly glares at her son before settling her smile on me. “Absolutely, sweetheart.”

A lump settles in my throat, and I turn toward Lonnie.

“Good to see you again, Lonnie,” I say. “It was nice to meet you too, Kennedy.”

Her brows wrinkle. “Yeah. You, too.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Chase says, his voice rough.

Now he’s being nice? It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes and tell him not to bother.

“I’ll see you all later,” I say, waving as I make my way across the room.

“I hope so,” Maggie says.

Chase holds the door for me as I step outside.

The air is blustery, filled with the promise of winter in the distance. I slip my hands into my pockets and hurry down the sidewalk. If I walk fast enough, maybe Chase won’t follow.

I’m reaching for the door handle when he speaks.

“Megan.”